


Doctor's Orders

by Ethereally



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Dissections, Established Relationship, F/M, Medical Procedures, Questionable Knowledge of Anatomy, Robogore, questionable medical ethics, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereally/pseuds/Ethereally
Summary: What begins as life-saving surgery ends up bringing a new meaning to "I need healing."Or: Mercy opens Genji up, and cyborg sex happens.





	

The lights of the laboratory are so bright they’re blinding. Genji isn’t sure if that’s the fault of their interior designer or if it’s because he’s feeling a little light-headed as is; there’s a hole in his chest the size of a dinner plate and putrid, dark red fluid is oozing from it, congealing on the sides of his metal frame. He is wheeled in on an operating table, Angela pushing it from the other end with the help of some other medics, her eyes narrowed in determination and teeth gritted with fear. 

The operating table clicks into place and the other medics pile out of the room. Only he and Angela remain now, and the silence that hangs between them is thick like a slab of flesh as she slips an operating mask on. The air-conditioning makes a whirring noise as it reverberates through the room, its chill wind billowing against the exposed parts of Genji’s body. It is especially cold around his face where his skin blends into synthetic flesh and metal parts, the freezing metal at his jaw causing his features to pale. Genji is reminded of traipsing through a tundra, like the mission he’d gone on in Antarctica where they’d brought Mei back to Overwatch. He would be shivering if he could, though Angela had already pushed a button to immobilize him upon discovering his injury. 

It is a wonder that he is not shaking now, not out of coldness but out of panic, seeing that his chest has been smashed in, the wound piercing through his armor into artificial flesh. He can nearly feel shrapnel and scrap metal scrape against his few remaining organs. Angela’s brows knot as she peers over him to unlatch what is left of his chest panel, removing the pieces delicately with rubber-gloved hands. Genji cannot help but wonder how she must feel in this cold. She, unlike Genji, is flesh piloting a meat suit, made of carbon and sinew and blood and bone. Then again, perhaps the temperature isn’t her primary concern, not when he is lying on a table in front of her with his artificial ribcage cracked open. In the quiet, he can almost hear the beats of his human heart pulsate through the wiring that connects his body. One inch closer to it and the blow he took for Lena could have left him dead. 

It is easy to forget he has parts that are still vulnerable when most of him feels no pain: the metal blade Angela draws against what remains of his flesh leaves nothing more than a light pressure and a soft scraping sound in its wake. The skin of his chest opens up to reveal his pulsating, beating heart bathing in a sac of artificial blood, lying atop a bed of wires that connect his nerves through his body and trick his brain into believing it is still alive. His mind is only alert because of his lucky sleight of hand and artificial creations of mankind. For a moment he feels foolish for nearly throwing it all away. 

“I’m sorry,” Genji mutters. “It all happened so fast, and I was not thinking.” 

“I worried for you, Genji. You are fortunate that Tracer was able to destroy the operative and rescue you in time.” 

His eyes follow Angela’s fingers as she begins to tweeze out shrapnel from his chest cavity. The metal pieces make a clanking noise as they fall into a kidney dish at the side of his table, one by one. Another apology formulates at the tip of his tongue, but he catches it before it can spill from his lips. They both know it makes more sense for Genji to be the one to throw himself in harm’s way: that unlike with human flesh he can simply be repaired, put together, and then sent back into battle the next day. The Caduceus technology can only do so much for those of them with bones and nerves, without a function that enables pain to be dialled down to zero before they get sent out to fight. Genji can afford to not feel, not think when he’s throwing himself in front of an attack. His sentiment of foolishness, while valid in the moment, was not completely justified: he has been through several operations like this in the past and will likely go through more in the future. The same cannot be said for his companions. 

Angela grabs a tube linked to a packet of artificial blood, and gently lodges it into the sac in his chest. He feels a light, clenching feeling in it as the red liquid pulses through his cable veins. It is enough to keep what remains of his flesh and limbs alive— the upper part of his left arm, and part of his lower back, his voice box and some of his ribs, but that is about it. Genji isn’t quite sure how he lived through Hanzo’s attack, so many years ago. “A miracle” is what Angela called it. He isn’t sure whether that term should be attributed to him, not when Angela exists in this lifetime. It is only because of her that Genji can speak, touch, hear; that he can still wake up in the mornings and see the sun rise over the beaches of Gilbraltar. If he must throw this all away to keep everyone else alive, so be it. It would be awful to die, but the end is a small price to pay when he knows he is just living on borrowed time. 

“I know this. I am grateful.” 

Angela says nothing but squints into the chasm in his chest, continuing to pluck out the shrapnel from his insides. Her tweezers weave into the wiring near his heart, and Genji feels a thrill shoot through his veins as she hovers closely towards the pulsing organ and pulls at the cables, plucking the broken and frayed ones from his chest bit by bit. Jagged pieces of steel fall out of them as she drops them into a petri dish, making a soft clinking sound like the chiming of bells. She pulls out a fresh packet of wires from a drawer by her side, beginning to thread them into Genji’s chest. Even with his sensations dulled he feels a jolt of electricity surge through him with every connection the wires make, each new cable lodged into his chest, and he is thankful his back cannot arch and his chest cannot rise and fall. 

There is a tingling sensation growing inside him, a thrill running through his synapses that amplifies with every single wire that she pulls out of him and stitches back into his chest. A strange, unexplainable sensation surges through him that feels like fire and sparks, and Genji feels a soft yelp escape from his mouth as she jams a large, blue wire into his body: each individual connection feels like a burst of fireworks.

Finally, she is done, and she steps away from Genji, looming over him and admiring her handiwork. There is something rather tantalising about the thought of being splayed out like this for her— chest panel open, ribcage cracked, heart bare for Angela to hurt or heal as she wished. The sound of the organ thumping rings through loud and clear in the relative silence of the operating room, and their eyes meet for a moment. “Thank you,” Genji says. She raises a brow in return.

“Your heart is beating very quickly, Genji. Are you afraid?”

“No,” Genji somehow manages to sputter out. “Quite… Quite the opposite, in fact.” He can feel his heart racing even faster now, and his breath catching in his throat. This is certainly not the first time Angela has replaced his wires, but it has rarely happened so closely to his chest; now he can observe each individual wire, each slight movement of Angela’s hand, and the sensation lighting through him is enough to set his mind ablaze. 

“Did you happen to enjoy having your wiring replaced?” 

Genji nods. 

“We can continue, you know,” she says, her voice dripping with absinthe and honey swirling into each other. The sound of Genji’s heartbeat fills the room as she runs a hand down the side of his neck, trailing it down to his collarbone; he can feel the soft pressure of her hands touching his body, and can only imagine what her skin feels against skin. He hears a clicking sound and is about to pipe up to ask what it is, parting his lips but no words come out; she has muted his voice box. Genji can almost feel his heart stop when she speaks up again.

“Let’s keep this clear of distractions and see what can be done.” 

With that, Angela resumes tugging at the wires around his ribcage, pulling out some of the green and red ones surrounding his heart and spinal cord. Genji feels a soundless gasp escape from his throat with each and every tug, and a warm flush creep onto his face. Angela’s intense gaze is unflinching, unfaltering as she works. Genji’s body builds up with a raw heat.

Nothing could have prepared him for how he feels when Angela grabs another conveniently-placed packet of fresh cables and begins threading them into him. Her fingers are quick and nimble as she plugs the wires back in place, one by one, sending sparks rushing through his limbs. This is nothing like the red-hot orgasms he has felt when he was human, when he was stitched together with flesh and bone; rather, this feels more like electricity than fire, pulsing through his entire body in crashing, overwhelming waves. Genji opens his mouth and lets out a soundless moan when Angela plugs a final wire into him, a large green one that matches the color of his lights, and a large cloud of steam escapes his vents and fills the space around them. 

She pulls away again, smiling. 

“Doctor’s orders.” Angela reaches for her Caduceus-brand healing baton, hovering it over the gaping wound in Genji’s chest. The yellow light shines over his skin and seals the flesh together, merging the cracked ribs and sewing the skin layers shut. He is, once again, good as new, save for a new scar white and raw, running down the center of his chest and tapering off at his stomach. However, it is nothing compared to the sea of marks and old wounds that lie around it. Each one tells a cautionary tale from his previous life or a quiet reminder from the one he lives now. 

(Angela kisses them sometimes when they are alone at night, tangled in the sheets of his double bed.)

“Torbjorn is making you some new armor,” she says as she reaches over and presses the button at the back of his neck, and then the one beside it. “You will be fit for battle soon enough.” Genji feels faint sensation flow back into the rest of his body, and he arches his back. Coming straight from battle into this was certainly an experience to say the least, and he can feel his bones and muscles ache with a fond type of soreness only Angela can manage to emit. Slowly, he raises an arm to the ceiling; he is once again mobile. The patient has been discharged and he can get back to work. He shuffles off the operating table, giving Angela a small bow. 

“I appreciated that very much, Dr. Ziegler. Very… Healing.” Genji gives her a wink. 

Angela laughs, rolling her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> for day 4 of gency week: mission.
> 
> special thanks to @melofees and @therealdoxian on Twitter for their help!! couldn't have done it without you two.


End file.
